He was always driving
a small, rusty dusty car
came down our road mostly on Fridays
on his way to the farmers market.
He carried little jars of balm
made from herbs for scrapes and bruises.
One time he arrived in my yard
just as I was about to bury
a songbird found in the garden.
" May I ?"
He cradled the limp form
lifting it in both hands,
sound started from
the back of his throat,
moving into a chant
with movements of a well known ritual,
it ended with humming
as he covered the little body with earth.
When I asked where this came from,
He said " Sta-her.
Far, far away
in a place
where sled dogs run."
10 comments:
I like the quietness and humility of this piece and its characters. The play on the name of a place. "Sta-her," which to me evokes the image of a stair or staying here? The buried bird must stay here, as is soul is lifted to far far away.
Really nice narrative poem!
I love how the folkloric and the sci-fi effects melded seamlessly here. Strong write!
You had me from the opening line. I thought the poem was wonderous and the character fascinating. Very different. Enjoyed it a lot.
beautiful work.
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emotional, and mystical I found, a mysterious one.
Interesting take!
You did catch me with the first line, and the movement into the mystical shaman-like character of this man just made my mouth drop. Oh, I loved it.
I enjoyed the mysterious magic you evoked...
A nice, unusual take on the theme.
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